David walked out of the office, still looking like he'd just witnessed a miracle—or possibly a confusing perfume commercial. His eyes were glazed over, lips curved slightly upwards, and he wasn't watching where he was going.
Naturally, he walked straight into a wall.
Well, not a wall. A person. A tall, sweaty, and now slightly injured person.
"Ow! Bro, what the hell—are you blind?" the guy yelped, rubbing his nose with one hand while glaring down at David.
David looked up. "Tom?"
Tom, who was rocking a basketball jersey and still holding a water bottle from practice, looked annoyed. He wiped his nose again and inspected his fingers. "Dude. That actually hurt. You have a bony face."
Tom—full name Thomas but known to most of the school as either "that tall guy" or "walking lamppost"—was David's best friend and unfortunately also his deskmate. The two had somehow ended up attached at the hip, even though one was clearly a sports jock and the other was whatever David was.
Despite their differences, they clicked.
Maybe it was because they both hated math.
Or maybe it was because neither of them took school seriously enough to keep better company.
They usually left school together, especially on days when their last two classes were free due to "training"—which, in David's case, meant messing around while pretending to be productive.
Today, training coincided with Melissa's class, which was both good (no lectures) and bad (he'd had a very weird hour of tutoring with her that he still wasn't over).
Tom, meanwhile, had already heard the day's major gossip through the school grapevine.
The "Garlic Bastard" incident in class? Already old news.
The part about David getting pulled for after-school tutoring by Miss Melissa, a.k.a. "Scary Legs"? Everyone was talking about it.
So Tom had decided to wait by the entrance and catch David on the way out.
What he didn't expect was to get body-checked by him and possibly suffer a minor nose injury in the process.
But instead of being worried, Tom squinted suspiciously at his friend.
"You're smiling," Tom said. "Why are you smiling?"
David blinked slowly, then sighed. "Let's just say… art imitates life."
Tom tilted his head. "What does that even mean? What happened in there?"
David gave him a smug little look and stroked his chin like a philosopher who had just seen the secrets of the universe. "I can't say it was cool. I can't say it was inspiring. I can only say… it was an experience.
One involving black tights, a perfume you can still smell three hours later, and a chair that squeaks every time someone shifts their legs."
Tom stared.
David didn't elaborate.
There was an awkward pause.
Then Tom's eyes lit up with recognition—plus a little too much excitement. His nose leaked trickle of blood as he had a preverted expression.
"Oh, no. No no. Don't tell me you've got a thing for Miss Melissa now."
David shrugged, clearly enjoying the reaction. "I'm not saying I do. I'm not saying I don't. I'm just saying… you weren't there, man."
Tom rolled his eyes so hard it looked like they might fall out of his head. "You're hopeless."
And he still hadn't noticed the blood on his nose.
David did.
And he smirked, again.
"What?" Tom asked, sensing it.
"You're bleeding."
Tom wiped his nose. "Huh."
David gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Worth it, though, right?"
Tom looked mildly disgusted, but didn't deny it.
It wasn't like David had any weird thoughts about Miss Melissa. He swore it.
It was just… those legs. Those long, black-silk-wrapped legs that kept crossing and uncrossing in front of him during the entire tutoring session. And that faint perfume—like flowers mixed with something illegal—that somehow got stuck in his nose and refused to leave.
It was distracting, okay? He was still a teenage boy. He had biology.
David shook his head, trying to clear the image from his mind, just as Tom spoke up beside him.
"Pfft. I'm not jealous," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "You know me. I'm not into Miss Melissa."
David blinked, then remembered—oh right. Tom was… different.
Unlike most guys their age, who gushed over cute Pokémon and had a crush on every third female teacher, Tom had a very specific, very intense preference.
He liked Gardevoir.
As in, really liked Gardevoir.
The same way a certain group of online degenerates from David's old world used to plaster forums with "Gardevoir is waifu" posts.
If Tom had a poster of Gardevoir in his room, David wouldn't even be surprised. He probably had two. Laminated.
In fact, Tom had told David more than once that his dream—his actual goal in life—was to become a top-tier Pokémon Trainer, venture into some high-level secret area, and catch a Ralts.
Then he'd train it, evolve it, and raise it lovingly into a perfect, graceful Gardevoir.
Like a man raising his anime wife from birth. Totally normal stuff.
David had always chalked it up to poor taste and possibly a lack of therapy.
But deep down, there was a part of him—just a small part—that wondered.
Could Tom be a reincarnator too? He acted like one of those weirdos who remembered everything from a previous life, but somehow forgot to study anything useful.
Still, David had kept one uncomfortable truth from him all this time. Something big. Something he knew would shatter Tom's delusions like a Poké Ball dropped off a cliff.
And today… David felt like it was finally time.
He took a deep breath and turned to Tom with a look of serious concern. "Tom, I gotta tell you something. It's for your own good."
Tom froze. His face tensed up. "Wait. No. Don't do that."
David ignored him.
"I'm serious. This is important."
Tom's eyes narrowed. "Why do you sound like you're about to tell me I have a terminal illness?"
David pressed on. "You know how you're always going on about Gardevoir?"
"Obviously."
"And how you're gonna catch a Ralts and evolve it into the perfect Pokémon bride?"
"…Still yes."
"Well," David said, slowly, "there's just one problem."
Tom stared at him.
David leaned in.
"Gardevoir has no sexual characteristics."
Silence.
"In fact," David continued, deadpan, "both male and female Gardevoir look exactly the same. Completely identical."
Tom blinked. "No way."
"Oh, there's more. They've got a 1-to-1 gender ratio. So there's a fifty percent chance your precious 'waifu' is actually a 'husbando.'"
Tom's eye twitched.
"And the only way to check?" David raised an eyebrow. "Is to look under the skirt. And there's a ninety-nine percent chance… you'll find a surprise. You know what kind of surprise."
Tom's brain short-circuited.
"Wait—waitwaitwait." He stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over a bench. "You're joking. That's not true. That can't be true!"
David gave him a solemn nod. "I wish I was."
Tom's mouth flapped open and closed like a stunned Magikarp. "But… if it's fifty-fifty, it should be… fifty-fifty! Not ninety-nine percent!"
"I said ninety-nine percent chance of surprise. Because even if it's a female, she might still be holding… something extra."
Tom clapped his hands over his ears. "Nope. I'm not hearing this. Not listening. I don't believe you!"
David smirked as Tom paced in a small circle, muttering things like "maybe it's just a rumor" and "fan art never mentioned this."
[+20 Negative Emotion Points from Tom.]
[+20 Negative Emotion Points from Tom.]
[+20 Negative Emotion Points from Tom.]
David grinned to himself. Watching Tom spiral was low-key therapeutic.
He looked at his friend, now frozen in place, staring blankly into space, his dreams of Gardevoir marriage crumbling in real time.
"Say what you want," David said, patting him on the back. "But your body's giving you away, man. You say 'no,' but you're still imagining it."
Tom didn't respond. His soul had left his body.
David just walked off, smiling like a man who had done a good deed.
Because sometimes, the truth hurts.
But that didn't make it any less funny.
"Well," David said, smirking like a man about to ruin someone's childhood, "there's this held item called the Big Root. Works wonders when paired with Gardevoir."
Tom blinked. "Big Root?"
"Yup," David nodded. "It boosts health recovery and is mostly seen on male Gardevoir. That's the catch, though—if you want to be sure it's a male carrying it… you still gotta peek under the skirt. Y'know… to see if it's Big Root or Big—"
"STOP," Tom shouted, holding up both hands like he was conducting traffic. "I don't wanna know!"
David leaned back, arms crossed, completely amused. "I'm just saying, it's biology, bro."
He looked at Tom, who was now visibly sweating, then shook his head. Poor guy. Still too young. If this had been one of the guys from David's old world, they'd have taken this conversation to a whole new level. Probably made a PowerPoint presentation about it.
[+20 Negative Emotion Points from Tom…]
[+20 Negative Emotion Points from Tom…]
[+20 Negative Emotion Points from Tom…]
David raised an eyebrow as the imaginary pop-ups filled his mind. Yep. That hit him hard.
Tom was now furiously covering his ears and pacing in a circle. "Nope. Nope. Not listening. La la la la."
David chuckled and called after him. "You can block your ears, but your soul already heard it!"
"I SAID I'M NOT LISTENING!"
"Too late, Tom. You already imagined the Big Root."
Tom paused mid-step. His brain had just connected the dots. Slowly, painfully. He turned to look at David, face pale like he'd seen a ghost, except it was just the mental image of his dream Gardevoir… with a surprise attachment.
Bit by bit, you could see it. His mental fortress—built entirely on fan art and questionable forums—crumbling. The disbelief was gone. Now it was just raw horror.
"So… my Gardevoir… could be a dude?" he whispered, dead inside. "And even the female ones… might still…"
David stopped walking and looked back.
Tom had frozen in place. Like someone hit the pause button on his brain. The color drained from his world. It was like watching a cartoon character get hit with a brick wall of truth.
He just stood there.
Still.
Gray.
Lifeless.
David rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly, I thought this was basic high school knowledge. It's literally in the Year 2 Pokémon bio textbook."
He shook his head again. "Didn't realize your grades were that bad."
Tom didn't move. He was still processing.
Some lessons in life came with homework.
Others came with psychic-type trauma.
After standing there in silence for a while, David finally walked over to the broken statue that used to be Tom and gently patted his shoulder like someone comforting a widow at a funeral.
"Tommy," he said with mock sincerity, "don't be sad. It doesn't matter if Gardevoir is male or female. As long as they're beautiful and elegant, that's what counts, right?"
He nodded like a wise old man. "Love knows no gender. You can't discriminate just because they're a dude in a dress. Who says a big muscular male can't also be a little sister?"
Tom's face twitched like someone had just sprayed lemon juice into his eyes. He clutched his head and let out a scream so tortured, you'd think someone just erased his entire browser history and burned his Gardevoir body pillow.
"That's a HORRIBLE image!!" he shouted, practically foaming at the mouth. "No! No more! Stop!"
Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees like a man in a telenovela and clasped his hands together.
"Brother David, I'm begging you, please, never bring this up again. I'll be your loyal servant for the rest of my life. I'll shine your shoes. I'll do your homework. I'll even stand in line for your cafeteria snacks. Just please, don't talk about Gardevoir's skirt anymore!"
David looked down at him, amused beyond words. Poor Tom. He thought he was untouchable—thick-skinned, tall, confident, the basketball team's golden boy.
But no one is safe from emotional devastation when David decides to drop facts like a bomb.
Tom had heard David roast other students before. He laughed when David called Bulbasaur "the garlic toad" and told a kid that choosing it meant he had the personality of boiled cabbage. Tom had even joined in the laughter, clapping his hands and going, "Yeah, Who even picks Bulbasaur?"
But karma is fast and merciless.
David's revenge came wrapped in green frills and a psychic-type skirt.
Now here Tom was—his mental state in ruins—realizing that his beloved Gardevoir, the Pokémon he adored, had posters of, wallpapers, figurines, plushies, and probably a fanfic or two saved somewhere deep on his hard drive… could actually be a dude.
A dude with a Big Root.
Tom sat there on the sidewalk like a man who just found out his favorite pop idol was actually his cousin.
David crouched next to him, leaned in, and whispered, "Still want to dance with her at prom?"
Tom made a soft, wounded sound. He wasn't crying, but he definitely looked like a man who wanted to.
He stared off into the distance, all hope drained from his soul.
His life had two passions: basketball and Gardevoir. One was still safe. The other… had been crushed beneath the high-heeled boot of truth.
"They're not all the same," Tom mumbled, eyes glazed. "They can't be."
David stood back up, stretched, and said casually, "Well, if it makes you feel better, Gallade's always male."
Tom blinked slowly, like someone coming out of a coma. "I don't like Gallade…"
David smirked. "Yeah. I figured."
Watching Tom shoot past Jake on the leaderboard of today's emotional trauma chart like a rocket fueled by regret, David felt a strange sense of satisfaction bubble up inside him.
Ah yes. What a good bro.
Helping a friend revise his forgotten high school Pokémon biology knowledge was a noble deed. Honestly, David deserved a medal. Or at least a free lunch.
Feeling generous from all the emotional damage he had dished out, David figured he'd return the favor with a preview of college-level Pokéscience.
"Hey, Tom," David said with a straight face, "did you know Gardevoir and Grimer can actually be bred together?"
Tom blinked. "Wait, what?"
His brain clicked. Then froze.
In an instant, an imaginary file titled Gardevoir and Grimer.avi popped into his head uninvited.
The imagery hit him like a truck full of sewage. Gardevoir… and Grimer... together.
His pupils shrank to the size of Poke Balls. His face turned white. Then green. Then a weird shade of "I-need-therapy."
Tom violently shook his head, like he was trying to physically throw the thought out of his brain.
"Bro!" he groaned, stumbling backward like David had just whispered the forbidden knowledge of the universe in his ear. "If you hate me, just say it! I'll give you my head! Take it! I don't want it anymore!"
He actually looked like he was about to kneel and offer it, which forced David to quickly grab his arm.
"Chill! Chill! Dude! I'm just joking!" David laughed, holding him up before he could actually do something dramatic.
Seeing Tom's mental state teetering on the edge of oblivion, David figured that was enough chaos for one afternoon. He glanced at the interface only he could see—his system panel—and saw Tom's emotional damage score peak beautifully.
Satisfied, he decided to throw the guy a small life raft.
David pulled a wad of cash from his backpack and slapped it into Tom's hand.
"Here," he said casually. "Five thousand and one hundred coins."
Tom looked down at the money like David had just handed him an alien baby. "Huh?"
"I borrowed five grand from you a couple of months ago. One hundred is interest."
Tom blinked again, confused. The fog of Grimer x Gardevoir horror still hadn't cleared from his brain.
"You did?"
"Yup. You covered for me when I needed to buy those Pokétextbooks and lunch for, like, a week."
"Ohhh… right…" Tom mumbled, still not fully present. "Yeah, I guess that happened."
The truth was, Tom came from a decent family. Not exactly rich-rich, but comfortable enough that loaning David five thousand coins didn't even make a dent. David, on the other hand, was broke as a cracked Poké Ball, so Tom often stepped in without thinking twice.
But right now? Tom could not care less about finances. Because every time he closed his eyes, Gardevoir and Grimer.mkvplayed on repeat. In HD. With sound.
David saw the vacant, haunted look in his best friend's eyes. Man was clearly done with life.
Before leaving, David gave him a final, friendly pat on the shoulder. "Look, man. Gotta stay positive. Life's too short to get hung up on weird breeding mechanics."
He leaned in with a smirk.
"Besides, maybe you'll get lucky and experience a Big Root Gardevoir someday. Then what else is left in life, right?"
Tom didn't say a word.
He just slowly raised a trembling fist and swung.
David dodged it with practiced ease, grinning like the gremlin he was.
"Missed me!"
And with that, he strolled off toward the green light at the crosswalk, leaving Tom behind—broken, betrayed, and wondering whether love was even real.